


And Straight On 'Til Morning

by Selkit



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Gift Fic, Male-Female Friendship, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 21:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkit/pseuds/Selkit
Summary: Jess and Matt make the trek back to the lodge, step by halting step.





	And Straight On 'Til Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aroberuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroberuka/gifts).



> Written for the summer 2018 Until Dawn Gift Exchange.

The walk back to the lodge feels a thousand times longer than the journey to the cabin. 

Maybe it’s because this time, Jess can’t feel her feet. Or much of anything, really. But considering the current state of her body, maybe that’s a blessing. Is it? Or is numbness the first sign of frostbite? Or hypothermia? She can’t remember. 

She can’t stop. She knows that much. If she stops, she might sit down in the snow and never get up again. The Blackwood cops and their army of local volunteers will scour the woods again, but this time they won’t come up empty. They’ll find a statue made of a girl, of ice and dirt and scarlet-streaked skin.

Behind her, a slow but steady stream of blood is leaving a trail on the dull gray slush. Might as well be beacon-bright, like she’s blinking a flashlight behind her with every step, Morse code for _‘here I am, monster, come eat me at your leisure.’_

“Sh-shit,” she manages. 

It’s barely a whisper, but it’s loud enough in a forest as silent as—as something really fucking quiet. Before she might have thought _silent as death,_ but now she’s officially come close enough to death to know there’s nothing quiet about it. Death is shattering glass and hair-raising shrieks, the frantic crunch of boots flailing uselessly against snow. Snapping branches and wet crumbling of ancient moldy mineshaft planks, and Mike’s baritone pitched high with panic—

“Oh, God.” She stumbles, comes up short. “Mike.”

It’s the first time she’s thought of him since she woke up. Does that make her a crappy girlfriend? Does it even matter when Mike’s probably dead, and she probably is too, even if she hasn’t given up and admitted it yet?

Then there’s a shape at her side, dark and solid, and even though she knows it can’t be the _thing_ —the thing was neither dark nor solid, was slippery and emaciated and dirty pale gray like trampled snow—she still leaps back with a stifled cry that’s half fear, half pain. 

“Hey, easy,” the shape says. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?” 

Jess looks up, and up some more, blinking until the shape resolves into Matt looming over her, his eyes wide with concern, hands hovering near her shoulders. When did Matt get so _tall?_

“Blood,” Jess manages. She turns around, far as she can manage before her busted ribs start screaming bloody murder. “Behind us. Leaving a trail. You know. For the thing. The monster.” 

It _was_ a monster, right? She feels so dumb, whimpering about monsters like a distressed damsel in a fairy tale. If Emily were here, she’d be having a damn field day with this. Probably accuse Jess of setting feminism back thirty years, or something. 

“I hate to say this,” Matt says, and the tone of his voice pulls her mind away from Emily. “But I don’t think that…thing, whatever it was, needs a trail to follow us. It didn’t seem to have any trouble tracking us down back there in the mines.” 

“Yeah.” Jess hears her voice going faint, matching the way her head’s starting to feel. The trees are beginning to close in around her, and Matt’s face blurs. Has she lost that much blood? Or is it exhaustion? Or has the fear just grown so strong that it’s shutting her body down in a last-ditch attempt to stay alive? 

“Hey, Jess. _Jess_.” Matt grips her shoulders. Her skin’s too cold to actually feel much, but the sudden pressure chases off the dizziness, brings his face back into focus. “Stay with me, okay? We’re almost there.” 

Jess blinks, looking past Matt’s shoulder at the trail stretching ahead of them. The lodge is still nowhere in sight. “Uh, liar?” 

For a second, he looks surprised, then his face breaks into a sheepish grin. 

“Okay, so ‘almost there’ is a stretch,” he says. “But at least we’re out of the mines? If it comes after us, maybe we can…I dunno, climb a tree or something.” 

“Climb a tree,” Jess echoes. She looks down at herself. Was it only a day ago that she was spending an hour shuffling through her closet, pulling clothes out by the handful until she found the perfect little lace-edged, barely-there tank top? She remembers trying it on, posing in front of the mirror, lower lip pulled between her teeth as she imagined Mike’s face when he saw her in it. 

Now it’s basically an _ex_ -tank top, reduced to shreds by some hellish demon monster that shouldn’t even exist, and there are six-inch claw marks making ribbons of her skin from one collarbone to the other, great big fucking _holes_ in her body that are gonna take probably hundreds of stitches to fix if she ever makes it to a hospital. Her head is pounding so hard she probably has a concussion, and she’s pretty sure at least one rib is broken, and possibly something in her right leg too, and she can barely stand up straight, and now Matt wants her to climb a tree. 

She can’t help it. There’s something wild and uncontrollable clawing its way up her chest, and she knows she should stay quiet because that monster-thing could be on them at any second, but at this particular moment she’s past caring.

She sucks in a breath so wet it’s almost a sob, so deep her broken ribs make an unholy crackling sound, and she lets it out in shuddering, racking bursts of laughter. It’s quiet at first, soft as she can make it, but it grows wilder and wilder until she’s bent over, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. Something liquid hits the ground, little pattering drops burrowing in the snow, and she’s not sure if it’s blood or snot or tears. 

“Climb a tree,” she wheezes. “Oh my God.” 

She manages to straighten, turning the world right-side up again. At least physically. Matt’s a foot away, arms crossed, staring at her. His face is a mix of concerned, bewildered, and mildly disgruntled.

“It wasn’t _that_ funny,” he grumbles. Then: “Are you sure you’re all right? Are you, like…having a nervous breakdown?” 

“Am I all right?” Jess says. “No. Am I having a breakdown?”

That takes a bit more consideration. The numbness is wearing off, and she hurts all over. She wasn’t aware, up until this very moment, that it was possible to feel sharp stabbing pain and dull aching pain all at the same time. But her brain, at least, is starting to clear. A little. 

“Maybe?” she says. “I don’t…I don’t know. This is all so messed up.”

“You’re telling me.” Matt scratches at the back of his neck. “All right, so tree climbing’s out. You can still walk, right?” 

Jess puts one foot in front of the other, experimentally. Even cushioned by the snow and the way-too-big boots she found in the mine, it sends pain sparking through her ankle and up her shin.

But she doesn’t really have a choice, does she? She’s made it this far. She survived a monster attack through a window followed by a several-story fall down an honest to God mineshaft. A mere walk to the lodge should be cake by comparison. She can do this. She will do this.

“I can walk,” she says. “Just try not to leave me in the dust, okay?” 

“C’mon, I wouldn’t do that,” Matt says. “You know that, right?” 

Yeah. Yeah, she does. He could’ve easily left her to die back there in the mine, when she was staggering around like a drunken sailor and the thing was bearing down on them, its otherworldly shrieks bouncing off the walls. 

“I know,” she says. “Thanks, Matt.” 

She sways on her feet, and Matt’s arm slips around her shoulders, steady as an anchor. 

“For what it’s worth,” he says, matching her slow steps as they continue forward, “if that thing comes after us and we do have to climb a tree? I’m pretty sure I can boost you up. You don’t weigh, like, anything.” 

Jess manages another small, hiccupy laugh. “Thanks.” 

“I don’t think it’ll come to that, though.” Matt raises his hand like he’s about to ask a question in class. It takes Jess a moment to realize he’s pointing at the sky. “See? It’s getting light out.” 

He’s right. Dawn has just begun to touch the horizon, fading night’s deep indigo to watery grey streaks. No actual sunbeams visible yet, though. 

Jess squints at the patches of sky stretched above the treetops. “What, you think it’s like a vampire or something? Scared of the daylight?” 

“It was hanging out in the mines.” Matt shrugs. “Not much in the way of light down there. That, and it didn’t seem too pleased when I shot a flare gun at its face.” 

“Wait.” The trail is sloping upward, and Jess turns to look at Matt, grateful for the distraction from the jolts of pain wracking her with every step. “You shot a flare gun at it?”

“Yep. It had a hold of me—” Matt breaks off, fingering the edge of his letter jacket’s collar. Ten hours ago, it was pristine. Now it’s frayed and ripped, sporting numerous unidentifiable stains. “It was dragging me through the mines. I couldn’t see much, but I shot a flare in its direction, and it dropped me and ran off.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I dunno what would’ve happened to me if not for that. Probably nothing good.” 

“Damn,” Jess says faintly. They finally crest the top of the hill, and she eases out a breath through teeth clenched against the pain. “That’s pretty badass.” 

For a moment, Matt doesn’t respond, but she can feel him looking at her. She’s gotten pretty good at sensing that—the weight of eyes watching her. It happens often enough. Not that it helped her out much back outside the cabin. 

“You think so?” Matt finally says. He sounds…hesitant? Maybe a little unsure? 

Jess turns her head to catch his gaze. He looks beat up, exhausted—almost as much as she does, probably—but she sees an unassuming sort of pleasure in his face. Something almost bashful. 

It reminds her of what Mike said, back at the cabin. _You’re just like me and everyone else. We’re all insecure._

It’s funny—she wouldn’t have pegged Mr. Star Linebacker Matt Taylor as the insecure type. But maybe Mike was onto something there. 

“Yeah,” she says. “I do think so.”

He grins, just a little. She catches it out of the corner of her eye. “Thanks,” he says. 

They keep plodding forward, one step at a time. The lodge is still nowhere in sight. It could have blasted off the mountainside and landed on the freaking moon, for all Jess knows. 

But at least the woods are beginning to wake. That creepy smothering atmosphere is starting to fade, and in the distance she can hear the chirping of early-rising birds. 

Maybe they’ll make it out of this, after all. 

For a while, she just concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, trying her best to let everything else recede to the background. The world distills down to sensations: cold sinking into her bones. Pain spreading all the way to her toes. The steady huff of Matt’s breathing somewhere above her head, clashing with her own labored panting. 

“Hanging in there?” Matt says, after a while. 

“Yeah,” she manages. “You?”

“I’m cool,” he says. “Let me know if you need a break or anything.”

“No.” It bursts out of her, and she blinks, surprising herself with the force of the word. “Need to keep going. I just want to get off this mountain. And never come back.”

“You and me both.” Matt pauses. “Hey, you’re pretty tough, you know that?” 

Jess doesn’t feel tough. She feels pulverized, like she’s been on the wrong end of multiple swinging baseball bats. And yet, Matt’s words—and the respect in his voice—are the first thing that’s made her feel warm since the moment she and Mike left the lodge.

“Thanks,” she whispers. “Hey, Matt?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry I called you a big dumb oaf.” 

She almost jumps in surprise when he laughs, a big rumbling sound that shoots straight through her. She’d almost forgotten his arm was still around her shoulders. Would she have fallen over by now, face-first in the snow, if not for that? 

“That’s all right,” he says. “I hear worse most days at football practice.” 

“Let me guess.” Jess feels herself smiling. “From Emily, yelling from the bleachers?” 

“Sometimes.” Matt chuckles again, but only briefly. Jess can’t see his face, but she can picture his expression fading to worry at the thought of Emily. 

Silence falls again, thick and heavy, and then Matt sighs. “I hope she’s okay,” he says, so quiet Jess can barely hear.

“Me too.” It takes Jess a moment to realize she’s spoken, the words coming out with no second-guessing, no hesitation. What had she and Emily even been fighting about all this time? It seems so meaningless now. “You know, she’s probably back at the lodge. Drinking hot chocolate. Feet up on the couch. When we get there, she’ll say, _‘God, what took you so long?’”_

Matt exhales a laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like Emily.” 

Then he tenses. Jess can sense him pulling himself upright, newly alert, like a dog catching a whiff of a steak. 

“Hey, look!” He flings out one arm, pointing. “Speaking of the lodge, there it is. _Finally._ Can you see it?” 

Jess cranes her head up as far as she can manage, blinking through the trees. It takes her exhausted brain forever to sort things out, but finally, so slowly she can barely stand it, she picks out the outline of the lodge, hulking gray stone blending with the softer brown and white of the forest. 

She could almost cry with relief and joy, if she had enough energy left to produce tears. Just as well that she doesn’t. They’d probably freeze to her face. 

“We’re gonna make it,” Matt is saying, over and over. He’s got both arms around her now, sweeping her up in a bear hug of sheer euphoria. “We’re gonna make it.” 

And then the lodge fucking explodes. 

Later, Jess isn’t sure how she ends up on the ground, crumpled on her side. Maybe it’s the force of the blast. Maybe Matt drops her out of shock. Maybe her battered body and her overwhelmed mind just can’t take anymore. 

She knows nothing but the softness of the snow, cushioning her aching body, fluffy like a down pillow under her cheek. It’s not even cold anymore. The pain in her ribs and legs and head is a mere afterthought, a faraway twinge. 

And she’s tired. So, so tired. 

Maybe this was how it was always meant to be. Maybe this is karma, her punishment a year in the making, for being the one to dream up the prank that drove Hannah and Beth out into the night, never to return. 

“Jess.”

She tries to open her eyes, but they won’t. She just wants to sleep. 

“Jess!”

Something’s shaking her, hard enough to rattle her teeth together. New jolts of pain burst in her ribs like fireworks. It’s enough to finally force her eyes open, and her vision fills up with light so bright she wonders if she somehow ended up in heaven. 

“Matt?” she mumbles. 

“Right here.” Something squeezes her arm, and the bright light fades. Someone’s leaning over her—no, two someones. She squints, concentrating hard until she can make out faces. 

“Told you we’d make it,” Matt says. 

Jess turns her head. She’s lying on her back now, but she’s no longer in the snow. It takes her a moment to realize she’s on a stretcher, that the blinding illumination in her vision was a pen light. To her right, closer than it was before, the lodge looms above her—or what’s left of it, at least. It’s an inferno, a massive haze of greasy smoke and fire. The flames stretch up, clawing at the sky, lending their light to the burnished orange and pink on the horizon.

The sun’s finally decided to show up. 

“What happened?” she croaks. Her throat feels scorched, whether from smoke or from screaming, it’s hard to tell.

“Take it easy, Jessica,” says the second figure, the voice unfamiliar but soothing. “You’ve been through a lot this evening, but you’re safe now. Your friend carried you over, and we’re going to get you both to a hospital. You just sit tight while we get you into the chopper.”

“But…the others,” Jess tries. “Mike? Emily?” 

“We’re helping your friends now,” the ranger says. “We’ll get you an update as soon as we can. But in the meantime, you need to try to relax, all right? Both of you. You did good.” 

Jess makes another go at speaking, but then the stretcher’s lifting up, and the world sways around her. She lets her eyes drift closed, and the dull roar of the burning lodge floats away, replaced by the sharper whir of helicopter blades. 

“You hauled me all the way over here?” she asks, prying her eyes open just a bit. 

Sitting on the other side of helicopter cabin, Matt looks exhausted, but at her question he cracks a smile. 

“I told you,” he says. “You practically don’t weigh anything.” 

Fatigue pulls at her like a strong, stormy wind, but she manages enough energy to return his smile. 

“Thanks,” she whispers. 

“Anytime.” 

The helicopter engine revs, the cabin shuddering, and then they’re peeling up into the sky. Jess leans up just enough to see out the window, watching as first the lodge, then the forest disappear from view. 

Then all that’s left is the morning sun, drifting across her face like a gentle hand, pulling her down into the warmth of dreamless sleep.


End file.
